Daunting
by Xeen Cyr
Summary: Peter has a brand new flat but it turns out he can't sleep.... Set after "AbilitY"
1. Prologue

**Daunting**

_No inFRiNGEment intended._

_Note: set a few days after "AbilitY". I'm not really sure where this is going but anyway, here it is. Please R&R, your comments are always appreciated ;)_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**PROLOGUE**

"Well, I guess I'm going to turn in as late as possible and roll and toss till morning."

"Can't sleep, huh?" asked Astrid from her bench.

Peter could feel empathy radiating from her. He shook his head.

"Nope. I thought that finally being on my own would give me plenty of opportunities to go back to enjoying life and its fringe benefits, but sleep doesn't seem to be one of them."

"I told you already Peter," Walter chimed in, "I can help you with that and give you something, --so that you can relax," he added hastily when he read the expression on his son's face. "You're too old now I can't go to your place and tuck you in every night."

He turned around and his mouth twitched. Astrid rolled her eyes.

"God forbid! Thanks Walter, but no thanks. To any proposition."

"As you wish, --but you'll change your mind eventually when time comes that you are so exhausted that you can barely drive yourself to the lab or help Olivia when she needs you."

"I heard you the first time Walter. I'm not moving back in with you."

"But why?" Walter whined. "We got along so perfectly well at the hotel, --like two peas in a pod I might say."

"Isn't he the charming one?" Peter twirled around to invisible witnesses, unconsciously searching for Olivia. He peered to her desk and through the blinds inside her back office but she had probably left the building already. He was so tired, he could not think straight.

"One would have thought it would be nice to have a real home and become a real family again," Walter continued.

"You know what? I don't know what's more shocking in that phrase, real, home or family. Or is it again? Walter, for the last time, I'm glad the Bureau ultimately let me rent this apartment. I'm glad to be alone. Wouldn't change a thing. I'm only pissed it took those darn bureaucrats so long to realize they were wrong in denying me the privilege of exercising my fundamental rights."

"Except that you cannot sleep. And I must tell you, it shows; you were never such a drama queen before," added Walter pointing an adamant finger in his direction. "Not to mention that ascertaining that you're better off… really cuts."

"It's hardly news Walter; let me break it to you, that's life. I'm all grown-up now; don't even begin to think that you can try your usual tricks on me. You'll get used to living in Harvard."

Walter stopped moving and frowned, seemingly in deep thought. He tucked his hands in his lab coat pockets and cleared his throat.

"Though it could have a beneficial side effect," he finally said. "Recent studies show sleep deprivation has some potential in the treatment of depression."

"I don't suffer from depression and I'm more likely to become a depressed maniac if I'm stuck with you 24/7."

"Who's sick?" asked Olivia startling him. She passed them briskly and tossed a bunch of files on her desk. "Did you find what I asked you for, Astrid?"

"I'm still on it. I'm having trouble cross checking information. This Jones, apart from the fact that Jones is pretty much as common as Smith or Clark, seems to know how to cover his tracks."

"Nothing from the lab yet?"

"No, nothing new. Standard material, government quality explosives, no fingerprints, no DNA. And nothing new on the hospital front either. Our bomb squad examined the room with a fine-tooth comb and did not find a trace of explosive of any kind. They don't dismiss the idea of a brand new state of the art substance which could produce a volume of expanding gaz."

"You mean explosives, right?" quipped Peter.

"Yep," Astrid admitted with a faint smile. "But Agent Francis wants to talk to you as soon as you can give him ten minutes and Broyles sent us this," she pointed to a cardboard box.

"More files?" asked Olivia.

"No. I'm not sure what to do with it though. It's a…"

All of a sudden, exactly as if Astrid had given him a signal, Walter preyed on the box and got hold of it. "It's a new coffee machine," he chirped. "Like the ones the doctor advertises on TV."

"He means Clooney," Peter explained.

"But George Clooney isn't a doctor," said Astrid.

"He was when Walter was institutionalized. A paediatrician."

Olivia chuckled.

"You're kidding right?"

"I'm not!" Peter protested. "ER was his favourite program back in the days. He taped it every week. It was like a religion to him. Even now that he has a TIVO system and five hundred programs and counting, ER is still going strong. He will never get over it when it's gone next month."

Walter was oblivious of his son's pun and unpacking the coffee maker with glee. He sat it on the counter and threw the old one in the wastebasket without another hesitation. "They seem to have an impressive range of blends," he read from the box, "I will probably need to taste them all."

"Of course you will. I'll get you a complete assortment of capsules."

"Thank you, son, although you may want to know that they are kind enough to provide the machine with a few samples."

"How thoughtful," said Peter with a yawn.

"I'm going to make that call to Charlie," Olivia chuckled.

Peter watched her disappear in her office and slowly followed in her wake. He stopped in the doorway, rapped gently on the door and leaned against the frame waiting for her to acknowledge his presence. She motioned him inside with a wave of the hand to the chair opposite hers. He literally dropped down on the chair. In a desperate attempt to appear busy and stay awake, he made a show at fanning through a file he had grabbed from her desk. But too weary to sustain his act for long, he soon got drowsily engrossed in gazing at her.

And finally dozed off.

-o-

_I know it's __merely a filler (again) and not much of anything yet ;)  
I'm only hoping I can come up with what happens next!_


	2. Coffee, what else?

**Daunting -- Part 2**

_No inFRiNGEment intended. _

_Note: Peter fell asleep in Olivia's office at the lab.  
On another note, I'm sorry if my grammar mistakes and my poor attempt at writing English offended any of you, I'm doing the best I can, so I do hope you'll forgive me._

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**Coffee, What Else?**

Peter's chin sank to his chest and he started to snore very softly. Slowly, the file he was reading slipped away from his grasp and papers, clips and photographs cascaded onto the floor and under the desk. He did not let go of the now empty folder and his hands quivered. He swayed on the chair and snorted briefly in his sleep.

"We should have known better," was saying Olivia in the phone.

Charlie's voice was faint in the background. She had her back to Peter and was searching a file cabinet. She finally turned around and tossed a bunch of files on top of the rest and the pile wobbled dangerously. She pressed the headset on her ear with her shoulder and skimmed through the files.

"We should have posted a guard inside the room not in front of his door. That was stupid."

She bit her lip and thumbed slowly through a bunch of photographs.

"Liv, you don't have to beat yourself up because he escaped. Stop being so overly critical. This mess happens to be the result of a collective decision. And I must confess I doubt that any guard could have stopped him. You've seen the wall…"

"Yes," she sighed, glancing over the last batch of reports, "you're probably right. But I can't help it. I'm sure I missed something that could give us a clue. Anything that could tell us if the light box had been tempered with?"

"No. Nothing yet on the bomb front."

"I'm sure that…"

"Listen. It's late. Try to relax, go home. Things have a natural tendency to clear up after a good night sleep," said Charlie.

Olivia looked up to Peter and smiled. The younger Bishop had anticipated Charlie's advice. Good for him. There was a time she could do the same and sleep just about anytime, anywhere.

"Yup, I'll do that. Thanks Charlie."

She sat her phone on the desk and rummaged through last week files, stopping to read whatever caught her eye. Before she knew it, she got engulfed in her work again.

"I'm on my way," announced Astrid popping her head in the doorway. "See you tomorrow."

"What time…"

Olivia checked her wristwatch. She had lost track of time. Again.

"Oh, okay. Where is Walter?"

"He's long gone; he said something about poker and margaritas. I didn't ask."

"Okay, thanks Astrid, see you then. Have a nice evening."

"Thank you…" she hesitated, "Olivia, I know it's not my place to say but you should follow Peter's example and get some rest." She chuckled. "I can't believe he's finally asleep. He's been complaining for days!"

"About what?"

Olivia smoothed her hair with her left hand and started fiddling with her pen, her eyes going from Astrid to Peter and back. She had totally forgotten about him. He was slouched on the chair, his head tilted awkwardly on his shoulder and holding on a beige empty folder for dear life. She realized he might have been asleep in her office for quite some time now.

"About the fact that he doesn't seem to be able to find any sleep since he moved in," Astrid explained.

"He moved in… I-I knew that? I mean, he's…"

"Yes, he found himself a nice loft near the river. He couldn't stop raving about the view, the space and the neighbourhood. He settled in last week, just before that young agent died at the warehouse."

"I can't rem… did I authorize that?"

Astrid winced when she realized that she should have kept her mouth shut.

"I wouldn't know. Maybe Broyles went over your head. I guess Peter didn't think it was important. To tell you I mean," she shrugged. "He was so upbeat about the whole thing, it probably skipped his mind."

"Yes, probably…"

"And the Dean found a nice place for Walter here on Harvard campus. Well…" she rapped on the doorframe and raised an eyebrow, "see you tomorrow Olivia."

She left abruptly.

"Astrid, wait!" Olivia jumped from her chair. "You know what? You're absolutely right. Today's work is officially over. What about a drink downtown?"

"Girls' night out, huh?" Astrid nodded with a bright smile. "Okay,"

Olivia grinned mischievously, grabbed her bag and coat, put a throw on Peter's lap and followed her.

She switched the lights off and slammed the door behind them. Gene shuffled in the dark and mooed gently.

-o-

_thanks for reading_ ;)


	3. Ground Control to Major Tom

**FRINGE**

**Daunting -- Part 3**

_No inFRiNGEment intended. _

_Note: Peter fell asleep in Olivia's office at the lab. And she left him there…_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Ground Control to Major Tom**

Peter's eyes snapped open in the darkness and he almost stumbled down from his chair. Legs entangled in the blanket, he stood up abruptly and looked over at his wristwatch but could not make out the time. He retrieved his cell phone from his pocket and 12:13 AM blazed right back at him.

What was he still doing at the lab? He could not believe that he had finally managed to fall asleep and in Olivia's office no less. And on top of that, she had simply hung him up to dry in the dark. So much for having his back….

He kicked away the blanket and mentally shrugged. Not only was he cold and angry at her, at himself and at the whole world, but thirsty and famished. He turned to the catwalk, passed before the cow who quietly shuffled when he approached the stall and raided the fridge. It was empty, except for a pint of Gene's milk, some undatable Chinese and Indian leftovers, a red apple, and Walter's paraphernalia of ongoing experiments. Leaning over in front of the glass shelves, basking in the eerie glow of the fridge, he finally reached out for the fruit.

He'd have to believe that Walter didn't dose the fruit à la Snow White for unknown and unspeakable reasons.

He closed the door gently and went to sit on the bench facing Gene, rubbing the apple against his chest impulsively.

"Bon appétit," he said, raising the fruit in the direction of the ruminant before avidly biting into it.

Gene blinked, shook her head and shuffled again, disturbed in her sleep by this unwilling human intrusion.

Now what? If he returned home, he would not sleep a wink again, having already eaten into his limited resources.

He would only face another night trying to read himself into oblivion. The prospect of dwelling into his inner geekness to get in synch with his brainless teleshopping alter ego till the morning comes was an alternative which will more likely lead him to spending yet another painful endless day trying to keep up with Walter's experiment pace at the lab or wandering in the field in Olivia's wake like a zombie.

Of course, he could get so drunk that he will eventually have no other choice than withdraw by a knockout, -- but he didn't want his insomnia to turn into a drinking habit.

He jumped on his feet and woke up his computer. Since he was fully operational and already at the lab, he could as well manage to have some work done. The cursor obligingly blinked at him. Elbow on the desk, his chin resting on his fist, he skimmed through the files and finally decided with a sigh against spending the wee hours in front of the computer. Bad, bad idea, he thought, shaking his head. He closed the document, displaying in the process a taunting Fringe Division desktop. He gazed at the screen until it went into sleep mode again.

Working at night alone here, that was the worst idea ever. Going back home and having some real sleep, not on a chair in Olivia's office kind of sleep, that what he was going to do. Why had he extended his time at the lab whilst he was obviously exhausted was beyond him. He was rapidly losing perspective.

He grabbed his coat and keys, switched off the lights, and rushed out for fresh air and his car. He should listen to Astrid and pop some pills or whatever concoction his father would be more than happy to supply and get it over with.

That was the easy way. Or…

His problem was so obvious, he could resolve it pretty easily should he chose to. Instead of waiting in awe for Walter to come up with the next out of this world unique theorem, he could find some extra curricular activities.

Not that he was willing to go back to his usual routine as a genial crook and jack of all trades, but this life at the lab, that was not him. Time hung heavy on his hands and he was longing for something a bit more proactive to steam him up. Some real action would definitely provide him with a well deserved rest.

With this thought in mind, he started the car into motion and headed to Olivia's apartment.


	4. The Quiet Man

**Daunting -- Part 4**

_No __copyright inFRiNGEment intended.  
Note: Now Peter's asleep at the lab and two female FBI agents have a few drinks and some conversation…_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**The Quiet Man**

Olivia shook her head. "But why on earth would Peter want to hide he moved? He concealed it from me, that's major!" she finally said.

She was facing Astrid, seated in an impersonal bar, perched on a high bar stool and nursing her drink. Several empty glasses on their table were proof that they have been rather busy since they got there. She took a few peanuts with the tip of her fingers, popped them in her mouth absently before rinsing them down with another gulp.

"I wouldn't know. Maybe he didn't think it was THAT important," Astrid shrugged. She took a swig at her glass and made a show at looking at anyone else but Olivia.

"Astrid, I didn't mean to be rude, it's just that…" she rolled her eyes and pouted her mouth, frowning, alcohol vapours clearly undermining already her abilities to think straight. "… cut me some slack here, you spend a lot of time with Peter and I thought that he might have explained why."

"Why I got to spend a lot of time with Peter, for god's sake Olivia, it's not my choice per se, I'm not only your assistant, I'm Walter's! Don't you make it sound like I'm willing to spend time with him, he's not exactly right up my alley, you know."

"Sorry," Olivia waved her glass with an apologetic smile. "Drunk talk."

Astrid chuckled and raised her glass with a wink. "Why he didn't tell you, Olivia, I don't have a clue, sorry. He's changed, you know. He's not the talkative Peter we all used to love and hate. Something broke inside him when you went MIA."

"I-I don't understand…"

"You didn't notice he's not his usual jackass any more?"

"No, not really," she said softly, unaware she was squinting.

"I mean he's still the best when it comes to wise cracks and perfect one-liners, but he's turned into a regular nice guy, he's not mean any more."

"He's just some smart aleck who keeps making witty remarks, is that what you mean?"

Astrid grinned."Yep, kinda. You should know that he hasn't been able to get one good night sleep since he left the hotel," said back to being serious. "Hence falling asleep in your office."

"Really? I always gave Walter's bedside manners credit for his lack of sleep."

"Maybe amnesia rubbed off on him. It's easy to have one's internal clock derailed."

"Still that doesn't explain…"

"Olivia, I'm gonna be blunt, would you drop it? I understand your concern about Peter shutting you out, but…" she hesitated. "Permission to speak freely, M'am?"

"Of course, go ahead," Olivia grinned.

"Maybe he doesn't know better. You didn't give him exactly a choice. And you knew from the start that there would be sexual tension between the two of you."

Olivia nodded and blushed a little. "Of course, this kind of… tension between male and female partners is documented. It is to be expected. It's just a fantasy."

"Sometimes, it's not," Astrid pushed.

"John?"

"Yes."

Olivia sighed. "It's different, I'm not attracted to Peter."

"Of course you're not," Astrid chuckled and concentrated on her glass. "You're just upset he didn't confide in you for his flat?"

"Well, yes. There's nothing more."

"I bet you could swear there's nothing more and right now you're feeling that you'll never fall in love again but you will."

"I know."

"I believe you. But let me tell you something. You deserve it, to go out and have a drink, or several drinks, after work. But shouldn't you have these drinks with Mr Wise Ass instead of me?"

"I've been here before. And he was asleep in my office," she raised her glass.

"Okay, point taken, I won't talk about it. Just so you know. You have him wrapped around your little finger."

"Yes, I guess one could say that."

"And you know that even if you squeeze your eyes really tight he won't go away?"

"Yep."

"Well, I guess I have to get back home and hit the sack or I won't be able to handle Walter tomorrow morning."

"I'll call us a cab, and Astrid?"

"Thanks for listening."

"My pleasure."

Olivia left Astrid in front of her building and went back to Brighton. When her cab reached her place and pulled over, she could have sworn that it was Peter's old family wagon that was turning the corner.


	5. Lest Ye Be Judged

**FRINGE**

**Daunting ****– Chapter 4**

_No inFRiNGEment intended. _

_Note: Olivia is back, and she's not happy…_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Lest Ye Be Judged**

"Hello, hello agent Dunham!" Walter chimed. He scurried to the entrance and trotted rapidly up the stairs to Olivia. "Did you sleep well?" he asked, helping her with her coat. He looked up to the clock and checked his own watch. "Aren't you late?"

"Good morning Walter, I was at the Division downtown." She checked her wrist watch. "I'm no later than my usual. Where is everybody?"

She slowly turned to the empty lab and back to Dr. Bishop with an interrogative smile.

"Miss… huh… as I understand, Miss… had quite an interesting evening with a friend."

Olivia nodded. "We were together."

"Oh-oh, --I see, girls' night out, huh? Any remarkable male encounter?" he narrowed his eyes and put a conniving grin on his face but met only Olivia's bland stare. "I would say that she is currently suffering from mild alcoholic intoxication," he offered swiftly.

"Astrid is sick?"

"She is not sick. She is merely retreating from the world for the time being. She was adamant in her refusal to be disturbed."

"Oh, she was," Olivia chuckled, "you mean she's hangovered?"

"I wouldn't say. I'm having trouble assessing her real state since she won't talk to me," he said with a hint of whining in his voice. "Fortunately, she made coffee. Do you want some?"

"No thanks, I had a few already."

"I, on the contrary, --had a wonderful night. We played strip poker and I had margarita and tamale. I won."

"Really? I'm glad you enjoyed yourself Walter. I take it you're settling in nicely in Harvard?"

"Yes, yes, it's fantastic! You cannot even begin to imagine how fascinating it is to live on the campus. I have everything I need: former alumni, great food, my lab and full access to unlimited resources. Not to mention pretty students by the dozen simply captivated by my work."

"You wouldn't talk about _our_ work Walter?" she asked with a concerned face.

"No worries. I am quite capable of devising intriguing alternative research and experiments for their purpose only. One can say they are not very bright," he said in a very low voice, casting suspicious glances around.

Olivia grinned.

"But you weren't asking about me, were you?" he prompted with an inquisitive look.

"What do you mean?"

"I told Peter that he should talk to you but he said he would eventually --but on his own terms."

"I'm not sure…"

Walter carried on, ignoring her.

"He should have told you that he moved out of the hotel. He wouldn't leave me, you know, I had to push him away. He's a grown man now he must have his own place." He stopped briefly to catch his breath, avoiding looking Olivia in the eyes. "Do you know that Asteroid has been there? It is a very large loft, with a king size bed and with a view on the river. And a formidable bath!"

"It is, really?" she commented, playing along.

She had to find Peter and Astrid or she will never see the end of it.

"Of course you know that two people sleeping in a king size bed will get the same amount of personal sleeping space as in a twin bed, isn't it wonderful?"

"Where is Peter?" she asked, looking away with embarrassment.

"He is with Astrid. He wouldn't talk to me either. I'm glad you finally came, agent Dunham, I was feeling lonely," he declared before turning tails and going back to his bench where he instantly forgot about her.

That was easy, she thought, watching Walter's unwavering attention going back to his puzzling work. He poured a blue thick liquid from a round bottom boiling flask into a volumetric flask and grinned wildly. He placed four identical Erlenmeyer flasks before him and measured different amounts of the sample. She had no idea what was the topical issue. He left the bench and retrieved four beakers that he put orderly beside the flasks.

She stayed a little while on the catwalk at her favourite spot, kneeling on the bench with her back to Gene. She leant on the railing, staring absently at Walter.

Walter knew. Astrid was there. Why did Peter choose not to tell, why was she the last to be informed? Actually, she had never been informed per se, she happened to learn about it by accident.

She closed her eyes and tried to regroup. It was not important. Peter didn't have to _inform_ her. Maybe there was a note from the Division or something. Maybe she missed it because of her work and being focused on life threatening issues.

Nope, she wouldn't miss it. She was keeping tracks of things… and what if Broyles had called her and asked her to go to a crime scene with her team?

That was unacceptable.

She took a deep breath and walked to her office. The door was open. From the doorway, she glared at Astrid and Peter. They were sitting at her desk on opposite chairs and engrossed in whatever they were working on.

In spite of the fact that she was across from her, Astrid didn't spot Olivia. Her eyes were puffy and she looked clearly below par, her complexion chalky white bordering on green. Peter had his back to her and he was slowly beating the tempo and humming a song out of key with his headset cords dangling on his shoulders.

"Hello."

Her voice didn't spark off any reaction from the pair. She stepped inside the study and put her hand on Peter's arm to attract his attention. He jumped from his chair with a shrieking howl. He violently snatched away the headset and turned to her, grabbing her arm in the same motion.

"Walter! I told you… Oh sorry Olivia, I didn't know you were here. I lost track of time. Sorry," he said again. "Did I hurt you? Oh, man I'm sorry…"

She was about to respond abruptly when she saw his face. If Astrid looked pale and sick, Peter was ghostlike. Exhausted didn't even begin to describe the way he looked and probably felt. Noticing the large dark circles under his eyes and his weary bearing, she kept silent and simply shrugged.

Astrid pulled her earplugs out and gave Olivia a poor smile.

"Hello Olivia. I don't know how you do it. I've had only half the drinks you had last night and I spent the worst night of my entire life. To tell you the absolute truth, I'm currently devising a plan to bribe Walter into beaming me back to my place. Don't be alarmed, I shall leave a clone at the lab to do my job."

"Astrid when I told you I've seen her with a bottle of whiskey, I wasn't kidding," tried Peter.

"The both of you surely seem to have a bad hair day. Astrid, I'm sorry I talked you into drinking. I had no idea you were going to be so sick. But Peter, what's wrong? You look really bad, did you catch a bug or…"

He waved dismissively at her.

"You don't want to know," he said.

"Well, did it occur to you that _perhaps_ I might want to?"

He bit his lip and chuckled.

"Okay, guilty as charged. Who told you? If Walter…"

"Astrid did. Why wouldn't you talk to me about leaving your hotel Peter? It's childish and it might have very well jeopardized our missions! What if I needed you at three in the morning? It's hard enough as it is without you pulling a Houdini."

He sighed and locked his eyes on hers.

"I know. I wanted to do it by myself. You've got enough on your plate without babysitting me. It's not your job."

"Okay, you're in no condition to argue Peter. Astrid, take the day off, it's on me. Work can wait. Peter, you're coming with me."

"Where?"

"I have to see Walter first."

She turned around and almost crashed into the good doctor.

"It's ready," he said. "I was waiting for you."

"You were," said Peter.

"I was impatient! It's my best batch, I would very much like to collect your impressions," he said seemingly very eager to show them something.

"What is it this time Walter?"

Peter's voice didn't have its ordinary edge and Walter flinched.

"You know," he winked nonetheless, "it's my new special recipe."

"Is it alcohol-free Walter?" Astrid asked.

"I'm afraid not dear."

"I'll pass then. Okay, I'm out of here. See you tomorrow people. Thanks Olivia, I owe you one."

"No, you don't, this is all my fault. See you."

"Oh, she's going," Walter whined. "Will you give it a try agent Dunham?"

"Maybe another time. I have to drive Peter… some place."

"Oh… OH!!! I see. Well. I must assume that you're not going to drink with me either Peter?"

"As much as I'd love too Walter, it's still a bit early for me."

"You can't sleep, how can you tell the difference? Should you have a blindfold, I'll bet you would not be able to tell day and night apart."

"But I haven't," Peter said, his mouth twitching.

"I will have to taste it myself then," said Walter.

"We'll miss you too Walter, let's get going Olivia, to wherever you want me to go with you."


	6. With a Vengeance

**Daunting ****– Chapter 5**

_No inFRiNGEment intended. _

_Note: Olivia is not happy…_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**WITH A VENGEANCE**

Olivia dashed to her car, unlocked the doors and waited for Peter to get in.

"We could have given Astrid a lift…" he said, dropping onto the passenger's seat. He fastened the seat belt and glanced at Olivia, wondering why she didn't answer right away.

"Probably," she finally said. She started the engine and drove away from her parking spot out of the campus and to the city.

He sighed and half turned to her, his shoulder to the window ridge.

"Okay… so I take it you're mad at me…"

"Yep," she said crossly, her hands clenched on the steering wheel. She gave a quick look on both sides of the avenue and turned left, leaving Harvard and Cambridge behind her.

"Where are we going? At least, you can tell me that much."

"Nope."

"For what it's worth Olivia, I should have told you way before. My mistake. I don't know what I was thinking."

"Not much I guess," she snapped. She squinted, obviously annoyed at letting her inner turmoil show.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he rasped.

"Exactly what you think it means," she stated matter-of-factly. "You're supposedly bright but continuously fail to demonstrate it."

"Olivia, please I'm too tired for that bicker."

"I bet you are. And how do you expect me to react to that information?"

"I-I… I have no clue," he stuttered.

"You're an essential part of my team…"

"Am I?" he teased her.

She barely winced.

"… and I'd hate to think that not only you're dumb but that you cannot be trusted."

"I can't believe you just said that. God Olivia, do you mean that after all we've gone through during these last months, you still don't trust me? I thought that…"

"Whatever you were thinking, you were wrong," she cut him abruptly. "Look at you. You're a wreck. I need my people to be in top shape. For god's sake, when I look at you all I see is someone fit for a casting call in the remake of "The Night of the Living Dead"."

"Oh… I see. I'm sorry to disappoint you but there's not much I can do about that. I haven't been able to find my beauty sleep lately."

"Except for last night."

"And you left me!" he whined unwillingly.

"You can't have it both ways Peter," Olivia retorted. "On the one hand, you're complaining about your insomnia and on the other hand, you want me to wake you up when you fall asleep. You don't make sense, really."

She stopped at an orange light and rapped nervously on the wheel, checking the cars behind her in the mirror and avoiding purposely to look at him.

"Do I really look like a guy with a plan?" he tried.

"Sorry," she said, her face undecipherable, "not a Batman fan."

The light turned green and she put her foot down, speeding down Massachusetts Avenue. Peter remained silent, surprised at his first glimpse of a very angry Olivia. That was the first time since they met in Iraq that she seemed immune to his charm. That was not in character. There was more to it than just a technicality over work and the whole shebang, he could smell something personal though he couldn't quite nail the feeling.

His eyes went back to the road ahead and he leaned against the window, welcoming the contact with the cool surface. He knew first hand that she could be short tempered but this, this was new.

Instead of driving smoothly through the traffic, she started to push the engine and race between the cars. He closed his eyes and tried to understand why she was so upset.

The car pulled over with a screeching of tyres and he woke up. His eyes snapped open but he was too tired to focus.

"We are here," she said.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_I know it's not much. I promise to update soon ;)  
Thanks for your continuing support and nice comments!  
Still can't believe that Fringe is coming back after 7 weeks!!!!_


	7. Reasons Unbeknownst

**FRINGE**

**Daunting – Chapter 6**

_No copyright inFRiNGEment intended.  
Note: Olivia drives on…_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Reasons Unbeknownst**

"We are here."

"Where is here?" he asked with a yawn, stretching legs and arms and repressing a shudder. He sat up with a heave, realizing where Olivia had pulled her SUV over. He looked up to the brick wall, the stairs and the wrought iron railing, trying to spot some movement inside. "Really? You're kidding right?"

"No I'm not. I figured that I never made the proper first move and only dragged you to Boston into this mess with no choice whatsoever and no friends to turn to and complain. So here we are," she explained. "My place, your rules, you can ask me whatever you want."

"First move?"

"Yep. I should have invited you to my place a long time ago."

"You understand that I've been here before, don't you?"

"Yes, and for the record, I know you've been here before and I didn't thank you enough for it."

"I didn't do anything," he shrugged and folded his arms defensively.

"But you could have," she said, her left eyebrow rocketing. "And surely, you were a great distraction," she hinted with a large smile.

"I was?"

"You know you were! Ella never stopped talking about aunt Liv's cute friend after you saved her from Brainiac's viral attack," she gave him a slide glance and bit her lip. "I think she's got a crush on you," she teased him.

"She's a gem," he chuckled and breathed in his cupped hands. "I'm freezing. Could we go inside… please."

"Absolutely, that was the plan. I'll make you some pancakes and we'll talk."

"We'll talk? What about Rachel?"

"What about her?"

"Is she supposed to be a part of our conversation?"

"She's house hunting, so I guess she won't be home," she opened the car door, "but you're most welcome to drop by anytime you want, should you like to _talk_ to her."

She stepped out and slammed the door behind her, walked around the car and trotted up the stairs.

"You coming?" she said, unlocking her apartment door.

Peter fell in behind and went past her inside the house.

-o-

"I'm feeling better already," he smiled, taking a last gulp of his coffee.

"When was the last time you had a proper meal?"

"Are we… _talking_ here?"

"I won't tell anyone, I promise," she said, "cross my heart and hope to die…"

"I can't remember."

"Sorry?"

"I can't remember, the last time I had a proper meal, I mean. When we were at the hotel, I used to take Walter to a diner on our way to Harvard almost every morning. I'd have fried eggs with bacon and American cheese on a seeded kaiser roll, or pork roll with hash browns, muffins, croissants and fresh fruits with yogurt... or a pie," he sighed, "some extra bagels and fresh smoothies. Now, I practically live on coffee and cheap breakfasts-to-go, you know those greasy burritos filled with eggs, cheese and sausage?"

She nodded.

"And that's when I'm actually not too late to grab one. And there's Astrid."

"Of course there is."

"I'm not kidding. She can find any order you'd like in a matter of minutes."

"Cheese steaks and donuts? I heard of it, --healthy diet."

"Last night I had an apple after you left me alone at the lab."

"Good for you… but I'm afraid I have to break it to you Peter. I didn't leave you. You're all grown up now and if you fall asleep in my office that's your problem. What am I supposed to do?"

"Wake me up for a start."

"And feed you?"

"Why not?"

"_For a start_," she repeated, "I'm not your mother. Unless you're willing to give specific instructions, I'll leave you alone."

"And we're back where we began this conversation. You should have woken me up."

"Think outside the box Peter. Why are you so afraid to rent a flat? We are you so reluctant to put down roots on account of a job that makes you the official caretaker of a retired genius and a vital part of our classified team? You were never a team player Peter. Think."

"I'm not afraid," he protested half-heartedly. "And I'm certainly not putting down roots."

"I know when you lie, Peter. You move your lips."

"Ah, ah. What are you doing, tracking down your inner Nancy Drew? Aren't you a bit old to play detective for my personal benefit?"

"Just stating the obvious."

"Fantastic. You're the best," he said with a feigned smirk.

"In ways you can only imagine," she quipped back.

"Are you trying to seduce me?"

"What do you think?" she asked, narrowing down the distance between them. "Should I stop?"

He stood up, reaching out to her with hesitation. "You sure?"

"Never been surer about anything," she said.

She snaked her arms around his neck, her fingers combing his hair and she pulled him to her, smashing her mouth against his; their teeth almost clashed. He embraced her and she clang on to him. He tried to suppress a shiver. It was not anticipatory sexual arousal, he was freezing again.

"Hey sleepy head, we are here."

She gave him a gentle nudge and he jolted awake in the passenger seat of Olivia's SUV.

"Olivia?"

"We are here," she said again, chucking him gently under the chin like a child.

"Where is here?"

-o-

_I know there's writer's block written all over __this chapter!  
I promise I'll make it up to you, --somehow ;)_


	8. Breakfast at Danny's

**FRINGE**

**Daunting – Chapter 7**

_No __copyright inFRiNGEment intended. _

_Note: sorry it took me so long. It's a very short chapter though, please, bear with me ;)  
_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Breakfast at Danny's**

"Where is here?"

Now that he was awake, his stomach was painfully asking for food.

"Can't you see for yourself?" she chuckled, killing the ignition.

"… FBI building? Why on earth would you take me to the Fringe Division?" he asked.

He sat awkwardly up in his seat and blinked.

"Is it the lack of sleep or most likely the lack of food, --if can take a hint from these awful sounds you're making right now, that got you THAT impaired? Actually, Astrid told me you hadn't sleep for a week but once again that's not what you demonstrate with me one hundred percent…" she trailed. "Would you admit that there's some kind of pattern here," she tilted her head provocatively, "I need your expertise, I'm confused."

"Very funny." He shrugged and stepped out of the car. "So that's your answer, that you won't give me any valid answer?" He slammed the door, stumbled and stood awkwardly on the sidewalk still hazed with lack of sleep.

"You asked me to talk to Broyles. That's exactly what we're going to do, together," she explained, following him on the sidewalk.

"Okay."

"Okay? No protest? No questions asked…"

"Okay. But…" He put a hand in front of his eyes to shade from the morning light.

"Oh, I should know, there's always a "but"."

He waved at her dismissively.

"I have to eat something first. You wouldn't want my stomach to go vocal, --brutally? Not when I'm in the middle of my best explanation to your boss of the multiple reasons that made me ditch Walter and find myself a loft on the river?"

"A loft on the river, how nice! So I take it there's a view?"

"Yep, and a very nice view as it is. If you can take Broyles' edges off Dunham, you might even get yourself a tour."

"Really? You had half the Bureau already parading in your little bachelor trap and now you're willing to accommodate me? Cut me some slack! You're fully aware that you're going to owe me much more than a visit, Peter."

"Anything. But please, help me Dunham, you're my last hope. There's no way I'm going back to this hotel with _him_." He put a finger to his temple with a twist. "He's messed with my internal clock already…" he smiled.

"So I've learned…" she smiled back.

"… I don't want him to kill my _mojo_ too," he said with an enticing smile.

"Really," she winked and got closer. "Do you want me to help you with that?"

"Excuse me?"

"Coffee and pancakes or an early lunch? Would that be enough to have you fit to meet Broyles?"

She clearly heard a sigh of relief.

"I'll have both, back to back. I haven't eaten anything in ages."

"Follow me then, I know just the place."


	9. Better Be Sorry Than Late

**FRINGE**

**Daunting – Chapter 8**

_No __copyright inFRiNGEment intended. _

_Note: sorry it took me so long. It's a very short chapter though…_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Better Be Sorry Than Late**

"You were right on all accounts. I would never have pictured Broyles as a big softie!" Peter said, jogging his way out of the FBI building through the busy crowd of the lobby.

"I never said he was," she protested without much enthusiasm elbowing through the same crowd with energy.

They reached the street at the same time past the two revolving doors. She checked her watch and turned to him with an expectant look. Catching her mood, he put his hands on her shoulders and locked his eyes on hers.

"No, rest assured that you didn't, not in so many words, anyway. Don't say anything, please. You'll spoil the moment. Dunham, I owe you, I owe you big time. This flat, you can't imagine what it is that it represents for me."

"I have a faint idea, yeah."

"Well, let's celebrate my new freedom," he prompted. He furrowed his brow and his hands left her shoulders, punctuating his speech, and suddenly getting a life of their own.

She could not remember a time when she'd seen him so boyishly happy and excited.

"Let me be your prisoner for a day," he proposed bluntly.

She giggled to mask she was ill-at-ease yet again and her cheeks went blatantly red. He didn't seem to notice.

"For a day, really? What about a week?" she teased him, venturing into unknown territories. To avoid going further down that slippery slope, she suddenly went back to her usual blank face delivery. "But sure, you must know that you don't owe me anything."

"Sure I do, a week it is then!" he insisted childishly.

"That would be in the event that you could actually manage to stay awake for more than five minutes with me being around…" she chuckled, "because I can't put up with someone who would slobber all over my SUV leather seats for an entire week, and that's not negotiable."

"I won't, I promise."

"You won't what? Fall asleep or slobber?" she said with a smile. "What do you have in mind?" she pushed.

He seemed relieved that they were finally back to their flirtatious harmless banter. That was a breath of fresh air after everything they'd been through for the last couple of days.

"What do YOU have in mind?" he said.

She turned her back to him to conceal her embarrassment and opened the car doors. "Nothing, if you except my well-earned tour of your bachelor apartment, but don't worry, it can wait till you're really settled in for good."

"No, it can't. Why wait? You said yourself that half of the Bureau's already seen the flat. Why don't you let me give you the grand tour right now? And we can decide on which restaurant we can go after that. It's okay if I take you out to lunch or dinner or whatever, isn't it? And if we feel like it, we may even catch a plane to New York and treat ourselves with a Broadway show. So, what do you say, is it a plan or what?"

She nodded absently. _I'm not eighteen anymore, _she thought, chewing on her lip_, but wouldn't it be great to just let go and forget about the Bureau, Jones and the Pattern_?

"I need to check with Charlie first. Maybe they got some new leads on Jones."

"You do that while I wait in the car. Whatever agent Francis is going to tell you, remember that today we stay together and stick to my plan. End of discussion."

She muttered something along the lines of _we'll see about that_ and cover her ear with her free hand to beat the traffic noise. Peter fidgeted for a while with the radio then gave up. Her phone call seemed to last like an eternity. Maybe it was his chance to call Walter and make amends. He wanted to make sure that his father didn't go ballistic on Astrid if his precious son went missing for the day –or more. But it turned out that Walter was quietly studying fragments of the hospital wall with no ulterior motives. He was so engulfed in his work that he did not even acknowledge that Peter was calling the lab when Astrid tried to interest him in answering the phone.

"He'll be all right Peter. Don't worry. I will be with him the whole day and we can always visit Mrs Ericson."

"Mrs Ericson?"

"Marine biology Mrs Ericson? Walter likes her. And he helps her with her saltwater tank. Then can spend hour discussing the merit of under gravel filters for biological filtration as opposed to a wet/dry filter with a couple of power heads. You'd be surprised to learn that under gravel filtration demands really more work in the end."

"You don't say."

"And if Mrs Ericson is not up to the challenge, there's always the cafeteria. Walter likes it there. He passes himself for a waiter or the local cleaning guy, depends. He can be a riot you know."

"Don't I know it," Peter sighed. "So no problem, I can leave Walter under your enlightened supervision?"

"No sweat, my pleasure! And Peter, have fun. You two deserve it."

_Whatever it means_, he thought. He hung up mulling over her last words. Olivia was still pacing on the sidewalk, oblivious of his presence in the car. He cuddled up in the seat, squinting unconsciously and observed her through the windshield. Soon he closed his eyes, --and before he knew it, he was asleep again.

-o

_one more chapter to go...._


	10. A Loft in Boston

**FRINGE**

**Daunting – Chapter 9**

_No __copyright inFRiNGEment intended. _

_Note: this is the last part; i know it's been a long time, hope you're still with me ;)  
_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**A Loft in Boston**

"You were asleep when I got back to the car," she pleaded, her eyes on the elevator digits. "Don't tell me now that I was supposed to wake you up. You made it perfectly clear that you were sleep deprived."

"Still. I feel…"

"Better?"

"I was gonna say ridiculed."

"My intention never was to mock you. You're under my supervision…"

"Am I, really?"

"… I happen to have your address. So please don't make a big deal out this and spoil the…"

"I won't." He leaned to her, his mouth brushing the tip of her ear and her hair.

".. moment."

He was so relieved with the results of his interview with Broyles and Olivia's visit that nothing could dampen his enthusiasm. "You got to admit that your phone call with Charlie took like an eternity and that your car is very comfortable, and quite irresistible on a full stomach."

The elevator doors swooshed open and he walked her to his door.

"Excuse the mess, I wasn't expecting visitors." He let her go past him and held his breath. Having her around was far more pleasing than what he had anticipated.

She walked slowly to the centre of the apartment, silently noticing the 52-inch LCD TV screen, a Star Trek DVD collection, stacks of video games and a bunch of _Wii_ remote and _Nunchuk_ controllers scattered on the hardwood floor. Piled up against the counter, were moving boxes full of books. She checked the titles on her way to the picture-window. Quantum mechanics and physics, mathematics, ancient history, she smiles. "Stacks of books and unopened cases, more books? Did you rob your friend?"

"My friend?"

"This Markam guy, the guy from the bookshop we went to see together for the ZFT manuscript."

He chuckles. "He's not my friend, not really. Let's say he helps me and I help him. And nope, I'm afraid they're all mine; you might say I'm a keeper."

"Is it your way of telling me that you've got more things stashed than your father?"

"Well at least I can recall where I put them."

She squinted to a framed black and white picture. "It's you and Walter yes, you were what? Four?"

"More like three I guess. This was taken during summer. Holidays, probably."

"Who's the woman with the glasses, she looks like a movie star, is that your mum?"

She felt his mood change instantly. She placed a calming hand on his, shot him an apologizing glance and crouched down to the coffee table. Her fingers brushed paper sheets scribbled with his precise handwriting. "What is it? Your take on Fermat's theorem?"

"More or less. I'm working on a theory. I'll let you know if anything good comes out of it." He managed to keep an even voice but it broke in the end. "Let me show you the view." He helped her back on her feet. "That's where we came here for huh?"

She tossed her coat on the couch and followed him. The loft had a full view of Back Bay and Beacon Hill; Charles River was glistening at their feet, and she could even discern Boston harbour in the distance. "That's fantastic Peter! Now I'm jealous."

"Is this your way of pointing out that I should have told you from the start?"

"No, of course not! I understand now, when you said it was a real bargain. But you're right, I wish you'd told me. Peter, after everything that's happened, sure you reckon we wouldn't have gone that far without you. Not only you're good to Walter but you're a real asset to my team and…" she whispered the last words, "I trust you with my life."

"So I'm part of your team now?" He failed at defusing the tension that was oddly building.

"You know you are, what's got into you?"

"Sorry, I guess I'm getting paranoid over the lack of sleep."

"You kidding me?" She turned away from the window and dropped on the couch. "You've been asleep for the best part of the day! Still I'd like to ask you something, and don't you dare elude my question..."

"Why I kept it from you?"

"That's not exactly what I was gonna say but yes, I guess."

"I was afraid you'd laugh."

"Laugh, what would make you think that?"

"Obviously my reluctance to fly back to Massachusetts is a clue."

"We're way past that, there must be something else."

"Yes, I imagine there is, but it's a story for another time, over diner, maybe, you'll bring dessert."

She looked away and tried to change the subject but realized her choice was bad the minute she opened her mouth. "You have a real fireplace, does it work?" She winced, graphic pictures of naked bodies lying on goat skin carpets flashing in her head.

"I haven't time to verify that, but we could give it a try some day."

"Is that a proposition?"

"Sure is! But hopefully snow will not blow over Cape Cod bay anytime soon..." he grinned. She couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed. He caught her mood. "Well let's not get over ourselves here, what can get you, whisky, beer, Seltzer with a twist... coffee?"

"What about some tea?"

"Coming right up, feel free to investigate further but don't expect me to reveal my shady past tonight." He busied himself with fixing a tray. "If you prefer to stay in, we can order in. Would you like that?" He sat the tray on the coffee table and faced her.

Her hair spilled on the cushions, her lips barely parted, her breathing even, she was sound asleep. He gently put a blanket on her legs, stroked her cheek and turned to the view with a sigh.

Thousands of city lights were coming to life. He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and pressed his forehead against the cool glass.

-o-

_Please review!!_


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